


Epithalamium

by Violsva



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2529758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violsva/pseuds/Violsva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My wife showed up in my office the evening after we were married, and told me we’d better leave the country at once. It was not for a typical honeymoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epithalamium

My wife showed up in my office the evening after we were married, and told me we’d better leave the country at once.

“It’s not, I’m afraid, the kind of wedding night you expected,” she had said, laughing at me from under the brim of her bowler, her trousered legs crossed on the edge of my desk.

And I had put my head down on my desk and laughed harder than she ever had, choking out, “Irene, I knew better than to expect that.”

“Good,” she’d said. “Now, I have a letter to write. To a gentleman friend.”

And now, a day later, we had found our way to a hotel in Paris, and something a little more like the expected wedding night. She’d not changed into women’s clothes until supper, which we’d taken in the hotel’s restaurant. Her trousers hadn’t made me stop staring at her all day – quite the opposite. And she’d known they wouldn’t.

I’d thought her free before, but I hadn’t seen her like this, lit up with her own cleverness and the certain knowledge she was delivered from her past. And she kept _smiling_ at me, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking – not that it could be hard to tell.

“Shall we go for a walk?” she asked me as we stood up after dining.

“We shall not, as you well know.” She laughed, and I chivvied her ahead of me up the stairs. As soon as I had the door locked her arms were around my neck.

“You’re lucky I don’t mind your teasing,” I told her between kisses.

“I’m not teasing _now_.”

I applied myself to her buttons, and she to my throat. Even in gloves her fingers were quicker than mine, though in my defence I was working behind her back. She threaded my tie pin through my lapel and pulled away my cravat and collar so she could nip at the skin beneath them.

At some point in the next quarter-hour she gasped, “Why will you men insist upon wearing so many clothes?” but I think I was equally tried – her neckline may have been lower, but she had just as many layers and buttons and laces as I. It would no doubt have gone faster had we been able to stop touching every revealed inch of skin. But I had waited too long for this – she’d offered herself to me before, but I had wanted her to know that I was serious, that I would not unscrupulously withdraw my promises. And now that I could touch all her bare skin I wanted to do nothing else.

When we were down to our drawers at last I picked her up and carried her to the bed, and she laughed at me, small breasts swaying with the momentum, and grabbed my shoulders so that I could not help but follow her down onto the mattress.

Her hands explored my chest as her mouth played with mine, distracting me and taking advantage of my need to use at least one hand to hold myself up. Her hair was still done up, being terribly mussed by the pillow. I fell onto my side and reached up to undo it as she turned and leaned over me, her fingers tight on my nipple. I found myself laughing again as my face was covered by auburn waves, and she kissed me through the tangle before pushing it over her shoulder.

Her breasts were thrust forward for a moment as she did so, and I took them into my hands gladly, feeling her hard little nipples against my palms. One of my hands slid to her ribcage, and I lifted her enough that I could close my mouth around a nipple and hear her moan. Her legs straddled me as she pushed me properly onto my back under her, but she let me stay where I was, sucking on her, feeling her squirm over me, for a pleasant while until she darted down again to bite my lips.

I hugged her to me and pressed her chest against mine. She kissed me, holding me down and preventing me from rolling her onto her back. Her hips were starting to fidget against mine, but she lifted them up when I tried to pull her down to grind against me, and I could feel her wicked smile against my mouth.

“If not that, what?” I gasped.

“I never said not that,” she smiled. “You don’t want to wait any longer, then?”

“God, woman, I’ve waited too long already.”

Irene laughed, and to my disappointment climbed off me to drop her knickers. She pulled mine off quickly, and my prick swung free and slapped against my stomach. She leaned over the bed to kiss the tip before climbing back over me. I slid my hands from her shoulders down over her breasts and belly and along her thighs. When I reached between them her cleft was wet and ready, and she moaned and leaned down as I touched her, letting her hair fall forward and brush against my chest.

“Now,” she said, backing away from my fingers and positioning herself.

She slid onto me and I could not help but thrust up to meet her. She was soft and warm and slippery, and the sound she made as she took me in perfectly ... oh, I had never wanted a virgin. I reached for her breasts and watched her arch back as I closed my hands around them. She shifted a little and moaned, tightened herself, and I closed my eyes and groaned at the ceiling.

She started moving, and when I could open my eyes again she was leaning over me, propped up on her hands, smiling and gasping. I bent my knees so I could rut in time with her.

Shortly I had to move my hands from her breasts to her hips, and she tilted forward enough to kiss me, her hips still bouncing on mine. I’d happily drown in her if she wanted me to, oh, but she didn’t. She was moaning constantly into her kisses now, her mouth wet and open against mine, and one of her hands slid down my body and between us.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, Irene, make yourself come.” She gasped a little and her head dropped against my shoulder and she ground her hips against mine and tightened and shook -

She made the loveliest small noises as she worked herself through it, rubbing herself against me all the while. My eyes were clenched shut, my prick straining inside her, and as soon as she had relaxed I pressed up and held her still so I could take myself to my own climax. She was heavenly, she was still all tight and wet and hot around me, and I barely managed to pull myself away from her in time as I spent between us.

She lay on top of me afterwards, nuzzling into my neck, and I had no wish to move her. At last she pulled away enough to wipe us off with a corner of the sheet, and then pulled me under the covers. I hadn’t got to lick her, I thought with hazy regret. But there was a whole night before us, and years after that. She was warm and kissing her way towards my lips, and we had years to spend together. Decades, if I had anything to say about it.


End file.
